Swallowing hard, he wrenched his mind back to reality.
“Might’ve gone even without Janel bullying me,” he admitted. “The Nasty Wenches have been badgering me for an entire year about the reunion. They—”
She raised a palm. “Hold up. The Nasty Wenches?”
“Local book club. They read smut.”
Soft jazz. No other sound. He could’ve heard a mouse fart. Not that the bakery had mice, or the health department would be on his ass like a boil.
Her response came slowly. “And you’re... part of this book club?”
“Yeah. I guess.” He shrugged. “If I miss a meeting, they bitch for weeks. Easier just to read some sexy shit and show up.”
Even though he still didn’t understand what anOmegaversewas. Something about knots and glands and people who sniffed a whole lot?
Also, those assholes sprayed body fluids absolutely fucking everywhere. County health department wouldn’t let a single one of ’em anywhere near a food-preparation facility. They were walking, talking, sniffing, constantly fucking sanitation hazards.
Dearborn’s head tipped to one side as she studied him. “Interesting.”
“Speaking of our book club, you narratedAlpha Krampus’s Knotty List.” He pointed an accusing finger her way. “So tell me, what the hell is that alpha/beta/omega shit?”
She flicked a hand. “The whole thing is a literary conceit. Not based on actual wolfpack behavior in the wild. Or at least that’s what Sadie told me. She said to just go with it, so I did.” Her gaze sharpened to a pale-blue scalpel as she continued to scrutinize him. “Out of curiosity, Karl... just how many of my books have you listened to?”
Way more than he’d admit to. A shame, since he really wanted to ask her what the fuck was up withMy Kangaroo, My Kidnapper. If that pouched prick actually had sex with his victim, Karl didn’t want to keep listening.
So far, “dark romance” month blew, even though a few Wenches were into it. Good for them. Not him. Consent issues squicked him the hell out.
“Not sure.” Technically true. He’d lost count after about twenty audiobooks. “Meant to ask—the bet you lost to Lise. What was it?”
Mentally, he thumped himself on the back in congratulations. Subtle subject change: accomplished.
She shook her head immediately. “I can’t tell you. I’m bound by friendship confidentiality rules. My lips are sealed.”
The two women still being in contact? Tight enough to share secrets? Hell of a surprise. He hadn’t thought they were friends in high school. But it wasn’t like he knew Lise that well, and no one had accused him of being the most perceptive man in existence, so whatever.
“Proving yourself completely trustworthy will require close contact, I think.” She drummed her fingers against her thigh and thought for a moment. “How would you feel about my coming to your bakery in the mornings and hanging out with you while you work?”
Almost anyone else, he’d respond: “Like murdering you and using your lifeless carcass in my daily soup special.”
With Dearborn, he had to tamp down his goddamn glee instead. “That’d be good. And on weekends, when I’m closed, we can still meet here. For our official trust-building activities.”
She looked amused. “That’s... surprisingly formal of you, Dean. Did you have any particular exercises in mind?”
“Uh...” He had research to do. Tonight. Because only one thing came to mind, and it wasn’t great. “Trust falls? You drop, I catch you?”
Read about those in the dentist’s waiting room before his last cleaning. Some glossy business magazine with a suited, white-toothed asshole on the cover. Shit sounded ridiculous, but Dearborn had put him on the spot, so she got what she got.
She stared meaningfully down at herself, then directed a flat stare his way. “Really?”
Well... crap. She had a point.
The woman was a perfect, ample armful. He could handle her—was practically salivating at the mere fuckingthoughtof handling her—when she was standing. Sitting. Lying flat on her back. Kneeling over his face. Arching on all fours.
Probably not landing on him like a sack of goddamn potatoes, though.
“Got till Saturday.” He shrugged. “I’ll come up with something.”
Molly looked skeptical. “Sure.”
